


Entries of a Grey Warden

by Omeganixtra



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Romance, Diary/Journal, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 01:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 4,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18043169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omeganixtra/pseuds/Omeganixtra
Summary: Commander Duncan has asked me to write down my thoughts, says that it will help until I am ready to talk. I do not want to. I want to go home. I want to kill Howe. I want to—The following entries have all been recovered from Warden Commander Cousland's personal office in Amaranthine, following their sudden disappearance and the conclusion of the Architect-situation.All entries will be read through by the Commander’s Second in Command, Warden Nathaniel Howe before being shipped off to the Fereldan Grey Warden Archieves at Soldier’s Peak.





	1. 21st of Kingsway, 9:30 Dragon - evening

_21st of Kingsway, 9:30 Dragon - evening_

Commander Duncan has asked me to write down my thoughts, says that it will help until I am ready to talk. I do not want to. I want to go home. I want to kill Howe. I want to—

~~How do I even sta~~

Father, Mother, I miss you

~~Maker, why did this happen?~~

~~Fuck Howe~~ —when I get the chance, I will wring his fucking neck and ~~burn his~~ spit on his corpse!

Oh Maker, how will I tell Fergus?

This is ridiculous. I don’t need to write things down; Duncan cannot be serious.

~~My~~

~~Scrub won’t stop looking north~~ —why did I write that?

The king can fix this, he _has_ to

I want to go back. I want to go back and destroy every single fucking Howe that I can find—that ~~lying~~ ~~thieving~~ backstabbing son of a diseased _whore_!

~~I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this~~

I ~~can’t~~ have to do this

Can't stay up for too long, I have second watch and we have to stay ahead of Howe's men, if they have followed us.

[ _A sketch of the now-deceased Warden Commander Duncan with his sword can be found on the bottom of the page, the ink-sketch slightly stained with what appears to be dried blood splatter_ ]


	2. 12th of Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon - afternoon

Commander Duncan and I joined up with the King’s army at Ostagar earlier today.

Cailan didn’t know about Howe’s betrayal and has promised full support as soon as the army is finished here.

Maker forgive me, but what can the King’s support do? It won’t bring back Oriana or sweet Oren— _Maker, what am I going to tell Fergus_?

No, I cannot dwell on it now. I still have time until Fergus’ patrol returns from the Korcari Wilds.

I have been given some time for myself in the Grey Wardens part of the army's camp. Duncan said something about finding a senior recruit by the name ‘Alistair’ when I’m done resting—because he’s been here longer, he gets to be the one going with me and some other recruits prepare to get initiated into the Grey Wardens.

Scrub needs to be fed soon too, poor guy has been surviving on the scraps we have had left after dinner for the last few days.

A meal with Scrub, a quick nap (if I even can) and then off to find Alistair.

\--

_(same date, evening)_

I hate the Wilds, I hate Chasind mages, I hate Darkspawn (sidenote: Alistair apparently thinks that jokes are weapons, Jory needs to grow the pair that he apparently left back at Redcliffe with his wife, Daveth needs to keep it in his pants before someone cuts off his prick)

[ _A messy doodle of a mabari has been drawn in the upper right corner of the page along with a bone. In the margin below the former sketch is a crude portrait of a young woman with dark hair and big lips. The name ‘Morrigan’ is scribbled beside it_ ]


	3. 12th/13th of Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon - nighttime

_12th/13th of Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon - nighttime_

I’m officially a Grey Warden now.

Everything is so fucked up and I cannot even describe how I feel right now.

Jory and Daveth are both dead. Daveth didn’t survive the Joining, and Jory lost the balls to go through with the ritual (note to self: don’t mention details in the journal, could be stolen and fall into the wrong hands)

Something is just _wrong_ inside of me, something that crawls and swirls around and I feel as if I am about to hurl every second that I am standing on my two feet right now.

Alistair brought me a flagon of ale, some bread, sausage and cheese—apparently, I ‘looked hungry’.

I only feel like puking my guts out, though.

He is a junior Warden, just like me, but joined a few months ago. A young man who apparently likes to rile up mages and has a weakness for cheese. Good grief, if _this_ is what the Order allows to enter, then I fear for Ferelden’s future, but at the very least he is competent with that sword and shield that he hauls around.

Fergus still has yet to return, but Duncan has told me not to worry. He wants me in on the council before the battle for some reason.

I don’t know if I can do this, but I have to.

I’m part of the Grey Wardens now—we have to stop the Blight here, or all Ferelden will suffer.

Wish I didn’t have to remember the dreams, though.

[ _An ornate goblet, filled with a dark liquid has been drawn. Several sketches of monstrous faces have been drawn in the margin but a few of them are crossed out as well_ ]


	4. 13th of Harvestmere, 9:30 - nighttime/early morning (?)

The King is fucking stupid, why did no one ever tell me this?

If it wasn’t because I’ve been initiated into the Grey Wardens and have to stay, I’d knock him out and ship him back to Denerim.

Alistair and I will be out of the coming battle. I’m not happy. Neither is Alistair, for that matter. Instead we'll be guarding a tower. Joy of fucking joys.

I yelled. _A lot_.

Duncan tells me that I need to control my temper. He can fuck right off with that.

I regret nothing.

[ _a crude caricature of King Cailan wearing a jester's hat is drawn in the margin_ ]


	5. 17th of Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon - morning

We lost at Ostagar.

Duncan is dead, the king is dead, and Teyrn Loghain has apparently fled the field.

I got three arrows in my shoulder.

Alistair is heartbroken, I’m quite sure of that. I don’t know what to feel. I didn’t know Duncan as well as Alistair did, so I don’t want to say something that might backlash.

Scrub apparently showed up while I was unconscious. I have no idea how he did it.

The Chasind woman (Morrigan) and her mother from when we were sent into the Wilds has kept him and I safe for the past few days, but we can’t stay here for much longer.

Howe needs to pay and I’m pretty sure that if I just leave him alone, Alistair will charge off to try and take Loghain’s head. The idiot can barely string together a full sentence right now, so I’ll probably have to take him with me.

Maker give me strength.

[ _a more detailed sketch of Morrigan, as well as a sketch of her mother, Flemeth, can be found in the lower right corner of the page_ ]


	6. 17th of Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon - evening

I don’t know how it happened but we apparently have a witch with us now.

Alistair hasn’t stopped cursing her presence, something about toads and swooping and Maker, I am going to strangle him if he won’t shut his mouth soon. A Grey Warden he may be but by Andraste’s sacred flame, that boy gossips like the fishwives back home in Highever!

Morrigan apparently holds just as much love for Alistair as he does for her, so I won’t have to worry about them falling over each other. Hopefully.

Although, Mother always said that opposites attract and—no no no no no NO _NO_.

I’ll stop that thought before it turns into something I’d rather not.

Where is Scrub when you need him. We have yet to get tents and it’s cold as balls out here tonight.

[ _a rough sketch of Scrub lying down is scribbled in the margin of the page_ ]


	7. 21st of Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon – midday

Almost at Lothering – Morrigan says that it won’t be long before we reach the village and can resupply. Maker, I hope we can find some decent tents, the nights out in the open are _foul_.


	8. 22nd of Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon – evening

Loghain is a right _bastard_.

The Teyrn has his men scouring the countryside for Alistair and I – we ran into them at the tavern. Killed the lot of them, can’t dwell on it now.

Some random lay sister approached us during the confrontation, asked us not to kill them. Woman’s not right in the head if she thinks that they won’t come back to bite us in the arse. When she asked if she could join us on the quest, I thought I’d heard wrong. This is not an easy journey and I refuse to take some dimwitted, airheaded Chantry girl with us who barely knows a thug from a sickly invalid.

Met a caged Qunari on the way out of Lothering after resupplying – going to talk to the Revered Mother on the morrow to see if we can get her to release him. Blight’s coming and we’re going to need all the bloody help we can get.


	9. 23rd of Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon – midday

Woke up to Scrub barking like he’d gone mad, turns out that some of the villagers were preparing to kill us off and present the proof to Loghain for want of simple coin.

Killed them all before they got too far and staged it to look like an ambush. Didn’t want them to scurry back and tell the rest of the village about the dreaded Grey Wardens. Better let them think that the darkspawn killed them off.

Alistair is pissed – he hasn’t spoken to me since, except spit at me.

Maker give me strength.

I cannot die. Not yet. Not until Howe no longer draws breath and I have seen Fergus once more. Andraste preserve him. I hope he made it out alright, that he wasn’t killed by the Horde at Ostagar or by Loghain’s men.

Good news is that we have the Qunari, Sten, with us now. Had a “friendly” talk with the Revered Mother about the Grey Wardens’ Right of Conscription and he was released shortly after. I don’t relish in forcing members of the clergy to do as I say, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

The Maker can judge me when my time has come.

We’ll be off tomorrow in the morning – Alistair mumbled something about us going to Redcliffe and ask the Arl for aid. Can’t disagree with the fact that we need all the help to enforce the Treaties that we can get.


	10. 24th of Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon – evening

I am beginning to think that the Maker is personally testing my will.

That woman from Lothering, Leli-something, showed up this morning as if there was nothing wrong and demanded that we take her with us. I told her no, she didn’t leave. I am embarrassed to admit that the argument that ensued was far too long.

When I finally told her to prove her worth before we agreed to _anything_ she walked off and left us in peace.

She came back not long after, dressed for battle with daggers and a bow and covered from head to toe in blood and holding three severed darkspawn heads. I’m fairly certain that Alistair lost his jaw somewhere on the ground. I know that I did.

Maker and his beloved Bride, give me strength.

[ _a very detailed drawing of two daggers and a bow is drawn in the upper right corner of the page_ ]


	11. 25th of Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon – morning

Turns out that Leliana is no mere Chantry lay sister. She’s a former bard from Orlais who apparently decided that the Chantry would make a much better career choice.

At least Alistair likes her better than Morrigan, so there’s that. Sten hasn’t done much since we got him out of the cage but bark with the dog and taking care of the armor and weapon that we found him.

We’re moving out again soon. Redcliffe next and then… then we’ll see.

[ _drawn quickly at the bottom of the page is a big figure hunched over a Mabari, no doubt showing Sten and Scrub_ ]


	12. 27th of Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon – midday

When we have a quiet moment, I am going to brutally murder Alistair.

Got to Redcliffe and there’s trouble, because of course there is. Undead have taken over the Castle and the Arl’s brother is trying to rally the townfolk.

Morrigan said to just leave them be and focus on getting into the castle, can’t say that I’m not tempted but Alistair is pissed enough as it is and I don’t need my only other fellow Grey Warden hating me.

We’ll meet with Teagan and see what can be done.

Still need to give Alistair a firm kick in the rear about the whole ‘bastard of Maric’-thing, though. Never going to let him live down the fact that he's a 'royal bastard'.


	13. 28th of Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon – morning

The dead attacked last night.

Can’t sleep, still sees the people we couldn’t help get dragged down under the water. Alistair’s the same. Maker’s breath, all those people we couldn’t get to.

I think I understand now just why Duncan wanted me to write down my thoughts.

I don’t think it’s helping right now.

Maybe it will.

But not today. Today it’s not helping.

[ _several large spots of ink are spread all over the page, slightly obscuring the words_ ]


	14. 28th of Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon – midday

I am not killing a defenseless child, demon or no demon.

No fucking way.


	15. 28th of Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon – late evening

Leliana asked me why I didn’t just kill Connor. She said that I was brave, that I surprised her when I used what that dratted blood mage gave us, and said that we would go to the Circle instead.

I don’t feel brave.

I feel scared. I _am_ scared.

I made a decision that only few of my companions agree with. Alistair’ indecisive as ever, the prick. I’ve no idea where Leliana stands on this whole thing, and both Morrigan and Sten are much more in favor of us just straight up killing the child and moving on.

But I can’t.

Maker forgive me for prolonging their suffering, but I can’t kill him—not like this, not when he looks just like Owen.

Maker, forgive me.

Owen, please forgive me for not saving you.

Please.

Please.

All I ask if for forgiveness.

 _Please_.


	16. 30th of Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon – evening

I don’t know what I ever did to upset Teyrn Loghain enough for him to send an assassin after me. Alistair, his situation I can understand needing an assassin to make sure that nothing gets out of hand, or stop him from getting lofty ideas about claiming the throne.

Me? Not so much.

His name is Zevran. I hate him already. Of course he had to be Antivan.

Of-fucking-course.

[ _in the corner of the drawing there is a small crow sketched out_ ]


	17. 1st of Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon – midday

Writing this as we’re sitting in the boat over to the Tower. It’s a lot bigger than it seems from the shore, that’s for sure.

Took Alistair with me, along with Zevran. I’m not leaving that flirty arse anywhere near Morrigan.


	18. 3rd of Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon - evening

Two days.

We were in that fucking Tower for two days, only got out of there this evening.

They say that magic is meant to serve man and never to rule over him.

Magic is dangerous. I know that. Grew up with that.

Never really believed it until this, though.


	19. 4th of Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon – morning

I woke up and could still feel that demon’s grasp around my head. Think I vomited into a bush. At least this time it wasn’t Darkspawn, so there’s something.

Had to write. Had to tell someone.

Keep seeing Owen crying in the dream. I keep reaching for him and he keeps falling.

Maker, how will I ever tell Fergus?

How?

How, how, howhowho ~~whow~~ HOWHOW?!


	20. 5th of Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon - morning

Senior Enchanter Wynne asked if I needed a sleeping aid last night.

I laughed at her and told her ‘no’.

I should have taken it. The demon took Owen’s face. I hacked it to bits with my sword. Seemed like a good idea at the time, now I just have a headache.

Morrigan’s telling me to put the book down and walk with her. Don’t know what she wants. Don’t really think that I care. There is that book I found, though—wonder if she’ll like it if I gave it to her.

I don’t know anything anymore.

I just want to sleep without seeing my nephew’s severed head.

Maker, please just grant me this one thing.

 _Please_.


	21. 6th of Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon - midday

Next plan of action is the Brecilian Forest. Going to bring Scrub along, he hasn’t been out and about much lately. Taking Morrigan and Leliana too. I am not leaving those two with Zevran.

Have to get there first, though, when the road through the Imperial Highway is out of the question with how much land the Darkspawn have decimated.

Going to have to get close to Denerim.

Too close for all of us, too close to home, too.

No choice, though.

Maker’s breath, I hate my life sometimes.

[ _several scribbles coat the page but nothing can be recognized from the smudged ink_ ]


	22. 10th of Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon - evening

Wynne and Morrigan have been on edge all day, saying that there’s something watching us from the border of the forest. I can’t feel anything, but if it’s of magical nature, then it is no surprise.

Leliana said something about the forests near Denerim are haunted during times of war. Biggest load of horse shite I’ve heard in a long while. Don’t like us being so close to Denerim, so we’ll have to stick to the forests for now.

Going to ask Wynne to ward everything off around camp, though.


	23. 11th of Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon - midday

Wynne and Morrigan are still on edge.

They keep looking at the forest we’re travelling along.

I can’t see anything, though. Neither can Sten or Alistair. Scrub hasn’t reacted negatively yet, either.

Don’t know why I’m writing this down. Makes travel time seem like it’s going faster, even if it’s just a lie.

The nightmares still hasn’t stopped.


	24. 13th of Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon – evening

So, apparently, we’ve been stalked by a spirit for the past week or so.

Alistair had the whole encampment in an uproar this morning, with everyone coming out with drawn weapons to find him brandishing his sword at a flickering light in front of him.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Wynne had demanded that he stop acting like a lunatic I’m sure he would have tried to stab it.

But, about the spirit.

It was terribly sorry for disturbing us (its’ words, not mine) but told us that it had been drawn here because of the strong sense of duty it sensed.

A spirit of Duty.

Maker, what has my life become?

Alistair wanted it gone, no surprise there and the same could be said for Sten. Leliana surprised me by wanting to ask the spirit why it is lingering here in the world, instead of crossing over. Wynne appears to be of the same mind as Leliana, while Morrigan seems deeply intrigued in the spirit itself and not why it’s here. Zevran… Maker knows what Zevran is thinking about it, he’s been looking on from a distance since this morning.

Maferath’s balls, I am too sober to think about this shit right now.

[ _a light sketch of “something” has been drawn, probably the form that the spirit of Duty took seen with the Warden Commander’s eyes_ ]


	25. 14th of Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon – midday

The spirit won’t leave us alone.

Wynne says that she can’t banish it for just fulfilling its purpose and Morrigan has made herself scarce since this morning.

Alistair still won’t talk to me unless he absolutely has to, so he’s no help either.

I just hope we can get some needed rest in Redcliffe after this detour we’ve had to take. Have to find a solution then, can’t spend time thinking about it now.


	26. 15th of Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon – evening

Got to Redcliffe this morning and have spent the whole day waiting for Wynne to come back from the Fade with good news.

The boy is alright, the demon that bound him is banished and won’t return. I hope this will make Alistair ease up towards me.

Our resident assassin also spoke to me today, of all things he was concerned about the spirit that followed us from the outskirts of Denerim’s forests. Told him to stop worrying about it and that I’d see what I can do together with Wynne and Morrigan.

Maker, I need a drink.


	27. 16th of Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon – midday

Both mages continue to elude me every time that I bring up that dratted spirit. It hasn’t done any harm, true, but after the fiasco that was the Tower and getting the mages to aid us, I am not too keen on letting spirits loose.

Morrigan is acting strangely though, and it’s been like that ever since I gave her that grimoire.

Still, we’re setting out from Redcliffe to the Brecilian tomorrow, need to check the gear and make sure everything is in order before we leave.

We’ll have to discuss it when I get back, if I’m lucky the spirit will have disappeared when the forest is over and done with.

Maker, but I hate magic.


	28. 20th of Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon - evening

I am starting to think that the Maker has long since abandoned me and my sanity, and is now just looking at me fumbling through life as if it is all some big joke.

Apparently, I have simply traded one type of magic for another.

I hate magic.

I hate elves.

I hate werewolves.

My companions are absolute ninnies, both of them, and the only one who gets me is my dog.

I hope that Duncan is having a bloody laugh at watching us fumble around, wherever he is, because I have just about had it with all this shit.


	29. 21st of Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon – midday

I am beginning to regret taking Scrub with me. He hasn’t stopped growling or barking at practically every living creature we’ve come across since entering the Brecilian Forest.

Leliana is no help, she’s too busy marveling at the Dalish who have agreed to let us camp on the outskirts of their site, and Morrigan should not be left alone with them at all, lest we all wish to find ourselves run out of the forest all together.

To think that the only sane companion I currently have with me is a dog, even if he  _is_ a Mabari, is not very comforting.

And we still have to find a way to stop that dratted curse too, because of course we do.

[ _a sketch of the werewolves plaguing the Brecilian Forest can be found on the bottom of the page_ ]


	30. 23rd of Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon – evening

With so many things happening there has been little time to write. Half of the time out there in the forest I barely even felt the desire to.

But it helps.

Maker preserve me, it helps.

For a long time I didn’t even think about why I should do it. It was just something Duncan told me would help cope with what happened at Highever, and then it stuck around after ~~Ost~~ Ostagar.

Morrigan thinks me odd for journaling, or so it seems. Leliana must think it romantic like one of her Orlesian ballads, if her airheaded sighs are anything to go on.

We departed from the Dalish camp earlier today, got the werewolves un-cursed and the Dalish have agreed to lend their aid in the coming battles.

I just wish all of this will be over soon enough—the dreams are getting worse each passing day and my mood sours every time I think about Howe walking free from his crimes against the Couslands and against Highever.

[ _drawings of darkspawn are littered all over the edges of the page along with what appears to be a werewolf and an elf_ ]


	31. 24th of Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon – midday

I think I might slowly be going mad.

This night I dreamt of the spirit who has pestered us since we got a little too close for comfort to Denerim, the one calling itself ‘Duty’.

Only, there was no spirit. Instead I found an elf, sitting in the forest, who said they had ‘waited for me to join them’. I don’t know if it was a man or woman, the voice was twisted and distorted. It was all very strange. I think we talked, although about what I cannot seem to remember, for what seemed like hours. It was, well, sad, I believe is the best word to use here. However, for the life of me I cannot connect the threads as to why a spirit would be sad and why it contacted me through the Fade, if that was indeed where I was.

I suppose I will have to ask it when we return to the others, if it still remains, that is.


	32. 2nd of Haring, 9:30 Dragon – midday

We reached the camp this morning, and have been bundling up under furs and as many blankets as can be spared. The frost has set in late, it seems, for while we were in the Brecilian Forest there were no signs of winter, with the exception of icy winds howling between the trees.

I overheard Zevran curse up a storm earlier about Ferelden’s weather and was surprised when I found myself laughing at his antics, despite my dislike for the elf.

If I am being honest then I cannot remember the last time that I laughed like that—before Howe, if I have to take a wild guess. Zevran was not amused from what I gathered, but seemed to get over it after Wynne went around with cups of blessedly warm and spiced cider.

He still hasn’t emerged from his own pile of furs, though.

The spirit is still hanging around the campsite, apparently, and has taken to trailing Sten of all people. If it weren’t for the fact that weapons cannot harm it, I would fear for its life, but it doesn’t appear to have tested his patience as of yet.

Haven’t managed to get it alone as of yet, but I must try before we reach the gates of Orzammar. Once we’re in the Deep Roads there is no telling when we will be back.

I am not looking forward to the dark underground, even less so when I know that there will be droves of Darkspawn down there.


	33. 3rd of Haring, 9:30 Dragon – morning

I do believe I have just been seduced by Morrigan, if last night’s actions were anything to go by.

We might just have more blankets to go around if she and I will be sharing in the foreseeable future, too.

[ _a rather detailed drawing of a naked Morrigan sleeping has been drawn beside the short notation in the journal_ ]


	34. 5th of Haring, 9:30 Dragon – morning

Heading for Orzammar but cannot say that I’m truly looking forward to go down so far below underground. Going to have to figure out who’ll be the best people to take with me when I go.


	35. 6th of Haring, 9:30 Dragon – midday

Duty hasn’t stopped following us and we’re less than three days away from Orzammar if the weather holds. I just hope that someone can convince that damn thing to stay away when we reach the dwarves.


	36. 6th of Haring, 9:30 Dragon – evening

Weather is picking up but shouldn’t be too bad, if we’re lucky. Wynne’s talking about staying behind when we go down, and I’m inclined to agree. She won’t last long down there, mage or no mage, and I am not getting her killed. Alistair agreed, not surprisingly.

I’m thinking of taking Sten. Not Alistair, though. If one Warden fails we’ll need to have a backup.

Can’t wait to break _those_ news to him.


	37. 10th of Haring, 9:30 Dragon – midday

I hate dwarven politics

[ _the word ‘hate’ has been underlined several times_ ]


End file.
